The Downfall of Pansy Parkinson
by Catmint
Summary: Sequel to A Common Bond, featuring a female Blaise. She's had ENOUGH of Pansy Parkinson being an atrocious prefect, so, with the help of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, she sets out to end Pansy's reign as prefect and claim it for her own, naturally!
1. Provocation

The Downfall of Pansy Parkinson

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Disclaimer: have never owned, don't own, never will own

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A/N: this is the sequel to A Common Bond, although nowhere near as angsty. It can be read without A Common Bond having been read before. For anyone who hasn't read ACB, Blaise Zabini features as a girl here – although JK has since confirmed that Blaise is actually a boy. Oh well. Too late for ACB and therefore this story.

Chapter 1: Provocation

"Have you seen my Transfig homework?" demanded sixth-year Blaise Zabini, slamming her hands down loudly on a table in the Slytherin common room. Her action startled her best friend Draco Malfoy as she leaned in extremely close to him.

Draco raised his blond head from his Arithmancy calculations. "Seen what?" he asked, blinking at her in confusion.

Blaise made an impatient noise. "My Transfiguration homework. _Have you seen it_?"

Draco shook his head. "No. Where did you last leave it?"

"It _was_ on the table when we were in the library earlier!" Blaise tossed her head irritably, sending her wild mass of dark brown corkscrew-tight curls flying into the face of third-year Malcolm Baddock. He glared at her and attempted to hex her, but she merely stuck her leg out behind her and he fell over it.

"Did you leave it in the library?" suggested Draco, reaching down and snatching up Baddock's wand. "Baddock, you can have your wand back at breakfast tomorrow."

"I don't _know_!" wailed Blaise, throwing her hands up in the air. "I can't remember! I went to get that book for Muggle Studies and then we left the library! And the blasted homework is due in _first thing tomorrow morning_! And it's already nine-thirty at night now!"

"Tell McGonagall."

"Oh, like she'll believe _me_," snorted Blaise derisively. "We're talking about the _head_ of _Gryffindor_ here!"

"And _you_ are a model student," Draco reminded her. "She'll believe you. Trust me."

Blaise arched one carefully-marked eyebrow. "She will?"

"You're Blaise Zabini. She'll believe you." Draco shut his Arithmancy books and gathered up his stationery, getting to his feet. "I'm going to put my books in my dorm, round up the lower years and then my bed awaits me. I'm knackered."

"Isn't Pansy supposed to be helping you?" inquired Blaise, attempting – and failing miserably – to tuck her wild mass of curls behind her ears.

Draco made a scornful noise. "Pansy Parkinson has to be one of the worst prefects this school has ever seen. I can't actually remember the last time she _did_ help round up the munchkins." He strode swiftly off up the stairs to the sixth-year boys' dormitory. "Quite _why_ Snape chose her for prefect is beyond me. Maybe all the fumes from standing over potions all day long has addled his reasoning abilities."

Blaise was close behind him, and when they reached the dorm, she threw herself stomach-down onto Draco's bed, knees bent and lower legs in the air, and chin propped up in her hands. "How are you holding up?" she asked in a more serious tone, waving her feet in the air.

Draco dropped his bag to the floor with a loud _thunk_ and dropped the books next to it. "I'm fine," he replied noncommittally. "As usual."

"How's your mum?"

"Same as always." He sighed heavily. "I know she'll never get any better. I've accepted that now. Come on, let's go and round up the munchkins. I think most of them think you're the sixth-year girls' prefect anyway."

"I know. And I need to find a way to sort Pansy once and for all."

"We can do that tomorrow. Now come _on_. And please straighten my bedclothes."

Transfiguration duly arrived the next morning. Blaise and Draco sat together at the front, near Neville Longbottom, a Gryffindor with whom they had recently formed a solid friendship. This had come about after Draco's mother had suffered the same fate as Neville's parents.

Next to Neville sat the school brainbox, Hermione Granger, and behind them were Hermione's best friends, Ron Weasley (rumoured to fancy Granger madly but too scared to ask her out; "some Gryffindor courage _there_," Blaise had snorted scornfully) and Harry Potter. Pansy was in the far back corner with Mandy Brocklehurst of Ravenclaw, after McGonagall had separated Pansy and Millicent Bulstrode for talking too much and not doing any work.

As Draco and Blaise walked into the room, Pansy sauntered up to them, a smirk plastered onto her face – a smirk that neither Blaise nor Draco liked in the least. "Thanks for the loan of the essay, Zabini," said Pansy sweetly. "It was _most_ helpful. _So_ kind of you to leave it on the library table for me while you went off to get some books." She casually tossed Blaise's unfinished, and now very crumpled, essay onto her desk.

Blaise stared at her in fury. "Why you –"

"Good morning, class."

The room instantly fell silent as Professor McGonagall strode in. Blaise narrowed her deep green eyes at Pansy, and hissed, "Bad move, Parkinson! You are _seriously_ going to regret doing that! I shall _personally_ see to it!" Her anger made her West Midlands accent even more pronounced than usual.

"Miss Parkinson, Miss Zabini, kindly take your seats – yes, Miss Zabini?"

"I haven't been able to finish my essay," Blaise informed her in a cool voice. She allowed her intense gaze to rest briefly on Pansy. "_Someone_ stole it to copy it – to cheat – and only returned it two minutes ago."

"Hand it in tomorrow morning, then. Now sit, so that I can begin the lesson. Mr. Weasley, I don't believe I can see your essay…?"

"Can I hand it in tomorrow as well?" asked Weasley hopefully.

"Absolutely not. You've already handed one essay in late this term and it's only October, so that will be five points from Gryffindor," returned McGonagall curtly. Weasley opened his mouth to protest but Potter kicked him and he shut his mouth again. Granger leaned back and Draco distinctly saw her tell him that it served him right.

McGonagall flicked her wand at the board and silence descended as the lesson began.

There was no time for Blaise to say anything to Draco during the lesson, and afterwards they split, Blaise to Muggle Studies and Draco to Ancient Runes with Granger. At lunchtime Blaise was absent from the Great Hall as she had arranged to tutor a fourth-year in Arithmancy – partly because she liked the girl and partly because it could only benefit her campaign to claim Pansy's position for her own.

The Potions lesson after lunch was quite small, consisting solely of students that had achieved Outstanding on their OWL exam. Nobody dared speak, as Professor Snape was in an even fouler mood than usual (which, Blaise had commented afterwards, took some doing), as he had been upset earlier in the day by Peeves the poltergeist. Other members of the class included Granger, Potter, Dean Thomas, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Ernie Macmillan, Mandy Brocklehurst, Anthony Goldstein, Terry Boot and Theodore Nott, along with a couple of others that Blaise didn't really know. Weasley had reportedly only just scraped an Acceptable in his OWL and therefore was not in the class.

Draco, Blaise and Theodore escaped the moment Snape dismissed them, the latter abandoning them the moment Blaise announced her intention of going to the library. They needed to do some work for Herbology, and the book they needed was a Reference Only (Removal from Library will result in Serious Consequences) one. Rumour had it that the librarian, Madam Pince, had placed several hexes on Reference Only books to prevent their removal from the library, and that these hexes included the wrongdoer's hands being burned and their skin developing disgusting multicoloured lumps. This would then result in a visit to Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing to reverse the effects of the hex.

Draco sat down at a table in the corner and got out his books, while Blaise hunted down the book they needed. During her absence, Neville appeared and joined Draco. "How are you?" he asked, sitting down. He had earlier arranged to meet the two Slytherins to study for Herbology.

"I wish people would stop asking me that," growled Draco. "I'm _fine_, except for the workload. Be grateful you don't do Arithmancy. You can tell Vector's ex-Ravenclaw by the sheer quantity of homework she dumps on us."

"I can sympathise; we get loads for Muggle Studies." Neville pulled out his Herbology notes. "Where's Blaise? Her things are here, but –"

"I'm _here_." Blaise practically threw the six hefty tomes that she was carrying, onto the table. Her eyes were blazing and she was so angry her hands were trembling. Her unfinished Transfiguration essay was also flung onto the table, on top of the books. "We can't use that Herbology book we need."

"Why not?"

"Because _someone_ – a certain someone that doesn't even _do_ Herbology – has the blasted thing!" Blaise snapped, violently shoving her shirt and jumper sleeves up to her elbows.

"Oh." Neville glanced nervously at Draco, who arched one pale eyebrow.

"I have had _enough _of that stupid, stuck-up _cow_ deliberately doing all that stuff for the sole reason of annoying _me_! I can't stand this any more! She is _not fit_ to be a prefect! I _have _to do _something_!"

"Any idea what?" inquired Draco, picking up one of the books from the pile Blaise had dumped on the table. He was taking a calmer approach to this than his fiery best friend. Malfoys were good at cool and collected. "You have to be clever, sneaky and calculating in plotting your revenge. You are a Slytherin, after all."

Blaise flung herself melodramatically into an unoccupied chair, letting out a frustrated growl. "I _know_, but what can I _do_?"

"I could ask Hermione," offered Neville. "If anyone knows how to sort Pansy out, it's her."

"I'm not having Granger involved," Draco immediately objected.

"She dislikes Pansy as much as you, though," Neville pointed out. "I heard her complaining only yesterday about her for not doing her prefect duties properly. She'll probably be _willing _to help!"

"Do ask her; she might have an idea or two," agreed Blaise, kicking Draco hard under the table before he could object further. "In the meantime, if we come up with something better, even if Granger suggests anything, we can do that.

"Now, to more immediate issues. The Incendio plant. We've got to be prepared to deal with it by tomorrow's lesson."

"Valuable for potion-making," Draco promptly informed her.

"Neville?"

Neville obligingly launched into a long, detailed explanation of how to handle said plant safely, and Pansy Parkinson was temporarily put on hold.

It was eight o'clock that evening when Neville got back to the Gryffindor common room. Harry and Ron were playing wizards' chess (Harry, it appeared, was losing rather badly), Dean and Seamus Finnigan were struggling over Divination homework, and Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were in a corner giggling over an article in _Witch Weekly_. Hermione was curled up by the fire in an armchair not too far from Ron and Harry, her huge ginger cat Crookshanks in her lap and purring loudly. She was, naturally, reading. Neville approached her warily, not wanting to get too close to Crookshanks. "Er, Hermione?"

Hermione withdrew her bushy head from the depths of the huge book. "Yes?"

"Er…How do you get back at someone without letting on that it's you who's doing it?"

Hermione closed the book and motioned for him to pull up a chair. "Sit down and explain. Who do you want to get revenge on and for what?"

"It's not actually me," Neville informed her, sitting down on the chair. "It's Blaise. She wants to get back at Pansy Parkinson after the stunt she pulled in Transfiguration. She also thinks that she'd be a much better prefect than Pansy, but she doesn't know what to do."

"Frame her," suggested Hermione promptly. "_I_ would. She deserves nothing less. Besides, the sooner I don't have to see her at prefect meetings, the better."

Neville's jaw fell open and he stared at her, astounded by what he had just heard. "_You're_ advocating deception? _You_, Hermione Granger, rule-keeper and enforcer extraordinaire?"

Hermione shrugged. "Not quite the 'rule-keeper' bit. Anyway, this concerns Pansy Parkinson. As a result, the goalposts have moved somewhat. Polyjuice Potion. It's in _Moste Potente Potions_ in the Restricted Section of the library, although I wrote the directions out in case I ever needed them again and couldn't get hold of the book. I'll get it for you. Actually, if you like, I can make it for you – or perhaps for Blaise, seeing as I'm not sure whether it can be used to transform into a member of the opposite sex, and now would not be the best time to find out."

"It's probably better if you make it; I got a P for my Potions OWL," replied Neville wryly. "Blaise is fairly good, though."

"Maybe she and I could work on it together – if she wants to, that is."

"I'll talk to her," Neville promised. "I'm sure she'll agree, though; she's never seemed to actively dislike you, and her family tend to be fence-sitters politically."

"I got that impression. Right, that's sorted. Have you done any of your essay for Professor Sprout yet?"

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TBC

You know what that little purple button at the bottom left of the screen is for…;)


	2. Consultation with a Gryffindor

The Downfall of Pansy Parkinson

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Disclaimer: have never owned, don't own, never will own

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Author thanks: at the bottom

Chapter 2: Consultation with a Gryffindor

Neville was true to his word. The following day, Saturday, Hermione was nicely settled in the library with her homework spread out in front of her when Blaise suddenly appeared in front of her. Her eyes were gleaming. "Neville said you had something for me. Some kind of potion."

Hermione blinked at the sudden appearance before gesturing to the empty chair beside her. Blaise obligingly sat and gazed intently at Hermione, who held out a piece of parchment that was covered in her neat handwriting. "Polyjuice Potion," she informed the Slytherin in a lowered voice, to prevent anyone from overhearing. "It physically transforms you into another person for an hour at a time. It's complicated and takes about a month to complete, but I made it when I was only a second-year, so…"

Blaise smiled wickedly. I _like_ it, Granger! It's the ideal plan; people will actually be seeing Pansy, and only a select few – you, Draco, Neville and myself – will know any different! When do we start?"

"As soon as we can," replied Hermione briskly, flattening out the piece of parchment that bore the procedure for making the potion. She was in her element now, sharing knowledge. "We can get the lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed and knotgrass easily enough from the student store-cupboard without any awkward questions being asked. It's just the powdered horn of a Bicorn and the shredded skin of a Boomslang that could prove to be tricky."

"You said you've made it before," stated Blaise, who rarely missed anything, however small and insignificant it seemed to be. This was one of the main reasons for her high social standing in Slytherin. "How did you get the Bicorn horn and Boomslang skin back then?"

"Remember the lesson when someone threw a firework into Goyle's cauldron to make it explode? Double Potions, Thursday afternoon, second week in December? Harry created the diversion and I stole the relevant items from Snape's private stores."

Blaise's green eyes were wide in amazement and admiration. "Stealing from Snape takes _serious_ guts! Hermione Granger, you could have been a Slytherin with behaviour like that!"

"I daren't try anything like that again, though," Hermione cautioned. "Snape doesn't forget things like that."

Blaise shrugged easily. "I have ways that _don't_ include the necessity of infuriating Snape."

"Oh?"

Blaise sighed impatiently. "Granger, although my family don't really get involved in politics, we do have a substantial number of former Slytherins in our midst. As such, I have…_contacts_, shall we say, who can get me everything we need, no questions asked, without taking the hugest-in-the-entire-world, death-defying risk of Stealing From Snape. Let me handle that side of things. How much of each ingredient do we need?" She pulled out a fluffy green Muggle pen from her bright yellow pencil case and examined the recipe closely. "Hmmm…Yes, my cousin Felicia can get me all of these. If I owl her now, they should come by Tuesday."

"And what exactly does Felicia do that provides her with such easy access to these kinds of ingredients?" Hermione asked, although she almost didn't want to know the answer.

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies." Blaise tapped her freckled nose to emphasise her statement.

"Why?" Hermione would never describe herself as 'nosy'; she was curious and inquisitive, hungry for knowledge about the world that she inhabited.

Blaise paused. "I rather doubt you'd want to know."

"Wrong. I do."

Blaise hurriedly looked from side to side, thick curls hitting her in the face, as she checked for possible eavesdroppers. This did not stop her from creating a Silencing Bubble around the two of them to guarantee secrecy. Unspeakables used such things all the time, apparently.

Hermione glanced around at the Bubble that now surrounded herself and Blaise. It shimmered with a blue iridescent glow. She wasn't really all that surprised that the other girl had used this spell – it was the only way secrecy could be completely ensured. "Go on."

Blaise, purely for dramatic reasons (she liked to be dramatic), leaned in closely to the Gryffindor prefect. "Felicia is heavily involved in potion-trading."

"Potion-trading?"

"It's not exactly what you would consider to be 'above board'."

"Ah. I see."

Blaise's face grew suddenly fierce and she met Hermione's gaze with a burning intensity. "You tell _anyone_, and I will _personally_ ensure that neither you nor the person – or people – you tell will never be able to remember so much as your own names!"

Hermione recoiled, blinking rapidly. Blaise's outburst in itself had not been much of a surprise – she'd seen her threaten several students, regardless of house or year group – but the intensity of it had. "I – I promise."

"_Good_. Now, when do we start and where do we make it?"

Hermione thought momentarily. "Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. It's where I made it last time, and nobody will suspect anything because she floods it so often that nobody ever uses it."

Blaise grinned widely. "I am _liking_ this! I'll owl Felicia now. I'll slip a note into your bag in Monday's Potions to keep you informed about the state of play. Now, I've got to go – tutoring to do." She stood, gathering her things.

"_Tutoring_?"

"_Yes_, tutoring. You know, helping someone else with the academic side of things?"

"Since when do Slytherins tutor?"

Blaise rolled her eyes irritably. "Granger, I want to help the younger kids – and there's the added bonus that it all helps in my quest to overthrow a certain person. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really have to go." She removed the Bubble from around them and strode briskly away.

Hermione watched her go, and couldn't help smiling. Blaise Ehrgeiz Zabini was certainly a colourful character. She had never actually disliked the girl, as she had never done anything to her.

This could be interesting, she thought to herself as she turned her attention back to her homework._ I'm rather looking forward to seeing Pansy Parkinson losing her position as prefect_.

"Blaise, what's _up_ with you this morning?" demanded Draco irritably on Monday. It was breakfast and he wasn't quite awake yet. He rubbed his eyes and took a bit from his toast. "You're acting like you're possessed or something!" He leaned close to her and gazed intently into her eyes. "You're not, are you?"

Blaise kicked him hard on the ankle. "Keep your voice down! Do you want _certain people_ to get even the faintest glimmer of an inkling about what we're up to? _Do _you?"

Draco reached down and rubbed his ankle, glaring at her. "That _hurt_, Zabini! If you're going to kick me, you could be a _little_ more gentle!"

"Wimp," Blaise shot back. She opened her mouth to say more, but Draco was spared further disparaging remarks by a sudden commotion and a flurry of owls. Some excited first-year Hufflepuff, obviously Muggleborn, screamed (rather pointlessly, in Draco's opinion), "_Owl post_!"

Blaise rolled her eyes. "And stupid me thought it was mice," she muttered scathingly under her breath. However, her eyes lit up as an elegant kestrel made a beeline for her, a box-shaped package in its grasp. It carefully placed the parcel on the table beside Blaise and took some bacon from the nearby platter on the Slytherin table.

"Oh, look. Zabini's got a parcel. Has Daddy remembered you at last?" inquired a sneering female voice.

In a split second, Draco's wand was aimed at the speaker's heart, his grey eyes ablaze with fury. "Shut your overlarge mouth, Parkinson!" he hissed, oblivious to the silence that had fallen over the Great Hall as the whole school watched the two sixth-year prefects with fearful anticipation.

"Or what?" challenged Pansy, eyes glittering maliciously. "We all know that your little girlfriend doesn't have a father any more. _I _happen to know why."

"Don't push me, Parkinson. My father was a Death Eater. He taught me a lot of the Dark Arts – far more than _your_ father ever knew, simply because he didn't have the brains. _My_ father was right in the Dark Lord's Inner Circle before his arrest; _your_ father is nothing more than an expendable wannabe!"

Pansy's eyes narrowed. "What exactly are you saying, _Malfoy_?"

Draco feigned surprise and pity. "You mean you don't _know_?! Your own father a Death Eater and you _don't know_?!"

"Why you little…"

"What? What am I?" Draco was calm, cool, collected.

None of your damn business!"

"Fine." Draco shrugged. "Have it your way, then." He nudged Blaise. "Come on. Let's go."

Blaise picked up her parcel, and she and Draco turned to leave.

Someone screamed.

The Slytherins as one whirled round as Pansy began shouting something, presumably a long-winded incantation, wand aimed directly at the two sixth-years. The wand sparked, producing a dark, blurry, indistinct form.

Draco hissed something and the apparition that had emerged from Pansy's wand exploded upwards. "TAKE COVER!" he yelled, eyes not leaving Pansy. "_EVERYONE_!"

Nobody questioned him. He conjured up a shield around himself and Blaise a split second before the debris fell. Some of the pieces deflected off the shield; all pieces hit the floor, wall, and Slytherin and Ravenclaw benches and tables. Where the debris fell, the stone and wood hissed and bubbled, turning a scorched black. Pansy shrieked as she was burned.

Silence.

Snape was the first to react. He strode over to the Slytherin table to where Pansy stood. "_That_, Parkinson, was one of the most foolish things I have witnessed here at this school. And not only foolish, but also incredibly stupid and dangerous."

"It's not _my _fault Draco Malfoy cast that spell!" Pansy argued.

"As a prefect, Parkinson," said Snape coldly, "you should know rather better than you apparently _do_. I am taking thirty points from Slytherin – yes, from my own house – for your disgraceful actions. Quite what you were thinking, I do _not_ know – no; I don't want to hear it – and take this as your _final warning_. Next time you cross the line, _even **slightly**_, I will be revoking your status as Prefect and appointing a more suitable person in your place."

"You – you can't do that!" spluttered Pansy angrily.

Snape smiled frostily. "Oh, I think you will find that I can, Parkinson. It is, after all, the Head of House that selects the prefects. Now go to Pomfrey to get those burns on your arm seen to."

Pansy opened her mouth to continue her protests, but a hard look from Snape made her change her mind, and she flounced off. Snape's dark eyes swept the Great Hall. "It is safe now. You can all come out."

A few Slytherins hesitantly emerged from under their table. Not to be outdone, the Gryffindors were quick to follow, and soon everyone was settled in their places again. Blaise, somewhat shaken, turned to Draco, her face hard. "We _have_ to sort her once and for all, Draco; we _have_ to!"

Draco nodded fervently as he removed the shield from around them. He glanced at the still-unopened parcel next to Blaise's plate, where she had put it after sitting down to recover. "What's in the parcel?"

Blaise glared at him. "Not so _loud_!" she hissed, glancing around for eavesdroppers, relieved when there appeared to be none. She picked up the aforementioned parcel, stood up and hauled her best friend to his feet by his robes. "Your dorm. Now."

Draco obediently followed. _Nobody_ argued with a determined, focused Zabini if they valued their life.

With the hangings drawn around Draco's bed and numerous silencing spells placed around them, Blaise carefully unwrapped the four layers of brown paper that was around the package. She sat cross-legged, directly across from Draco, brown curls cascading over her shoulders from two bunches on top of her head. "_This_," she announced dramatically, "is a great prize from my cousin Felicia."

Draco arched one elegant eyebrow. "Indeed? Do elaborate. We have Arithmancy in half an hour and you know Vector throws a hissy fit if anyone's late."

"No problem." Blaise waved him off dismissively. "Behold the key to our success."

Draco looked at her, still none the wiser and not looking too pleased about it. "Still confused, Zabini."

Blaise sighed irritably, impatiently rolling her eyes. "Powdered Bicorn horn and shredded Boomslang skin, you twit! I _told_ you Felicia was sending it!"

"_Ohhhhh_!" Draco's grey eyes glittered with anticipation. This was definitely looking good. "But what's it for?"

"Polyjuice Potion. I drink the stuff and turn into Pansy for an hour –"

"Rather you than me."

Blaise glared at him. "And then I carry out the act that gets her kicked out of office. All _you_ have to do is make sure Pansy can't ruin it. Knock her out, drug her, lock her in a cupboard, tie her to the bedposts…Do what you have to do. Just keep her _out of the way_ and _under close scrutiny_ at _all times_. Got it?"

Draco saluted her. "Yes, ma'am."

"As for the part about 'a bit of the person you want to turn into', I can get one of Pansy's hairs from her hairbrush one morning. Simple."

"Where do you plan on keeping those ingredients in the meantime?" asked Draco, indicating the parcel.

"Granger. She said she'd keep them under her bed. Patil and Brown don't snoop. Parkinson and Bulstrode do. Macdougal doesn't, but that's irrelevant because of the other two. I'm giving the stuff to Granger in Arithmancy."

"To which we need to get a move on." Draco looked pointedly at his watch.

"Fine, fine, I get the message." Blaise carefully gathered up her parcel and put it in her schoolbag, which she then swung onto her shoulder. "I _really_ want to sort Parkinson after that wisecrack at breakfast. Stupid cow. Just 'cause _her_ father didn't walk out after being caught having an affair with that tart of a barmaid from _The Three-Headed Serpent_. Mind you, technically, Mum kicked him out. Probably for the best." She scowled. "Come on."

They were the first to arrive in Vector's classroom. Hermione turned up a minute or so later, and Blaise handed her the precious ingredients. Just in time, as Vector's footsteps were beginning to echo down the corridor.

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TBC

Author thanks:

CatClawz: glad you like it so far, _mellon nîn_!

Lucidity: picky author! I still maintain that it's purple! I like that JK hasn't told us anything about Blaise (except that Blaise is officially a boy, but it's too late for this fic); it makes it more fun!!

Epiphanies: (blushes tomato red) Wow. Thankies, many times! Glad you're enjoying it thus far and I hope this chapter is equally good!

Lord Elrond of Hogwarts: Oops!! Thanks for catching me on the Adequate/Acceptable thing!! It's changed now!! Glad you're liking it so far!!


	3. Finalising

The Downfall of Pansy Parkinson

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Disclaimer: have never owned, don't own, never will own. I also don't own the Watch/Listen With Mother quote from my mum's childhood. Not sure who t hat's the property of, but it's not mine.

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A/N: I'm pretty sure this chapter is shorter than the rest, but it's all a matter on appropriate division of chapters, as I tend to write the story and sort the chapters out afterwards

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A/N2: I chose Aston Villa over Birmingham City, Wolves, West Brom, Coventry or Walsall because Aston Villa play in the same colours as the team I support

Chapter 3: Finalising

(1 month later)

Leaving Thursday afternoon's Potions lesson, Hermione slipped something into Blaise's robe pocket, elbowing her sharply so that the Slytherin was aware of her. She then hurried off to catch up with Harry. In Gryffindor, only he and Neville knew of Hermione's alliance with the two Slytherins, and it was necessary that it remained so.

Rounding the corner with Draco close behind, Blaise retrieved the note from her pocket - after also removing a pencil, a packet of Fizzing Whizzbees, some half-melted chocolate, an Aston Villa football ticket and a scrunchie, and pushing them into Draco's hands – and unfolded it.

__

Saturday is The Day. Meet me in the usual spot, 2pm. You know what you need to get. Sort out our problem, as well.

H

"So what's the plan, Draco?"

"I'll sort Parkinson, with Neville's help. We Stupefy her, give her a sleeping draught and then lock her in the old broomstick cupboard near McGonagall's classroom, and then put a Silencing Charm on it so if she wakes up nobody will hear her."

Blaise's eyes glittered wickedly. "I am _liking_ this!"

"What _exactly _are you planning to do to fr–"

"_Hush_! Not here – the walls have ears!" Blaise hissed furiously. She grabbed Draco's arm tightly. "You and I have a date in your dorm to discuss our plans."

Draco was unable to object to this plan, as he was currently being dragged along the corridor through a crowd of third-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws by Blaise. The third-years scattered when Blaise ordered them to move, barely slowing as she continued to drag her best friend.

"Blaise, do you…_mind_…easing off a…_little_? Only you're…_hurting_ me!" Draco attempted to pull his arm free.

"_Tough_," that young woman retorted, practically running down the staircase that led to the Slytherin dungeons. She did not loosen her grip on his arm. "And stop bloody _struggling_!"

"Then kindly refrain from your attempt to dislocate my shoulder!"

Blaise stuck her tongue out at him and continued to pull him along, until they reached the crack in the wall that led to their common room. She muttered the password ("Python") and they slipped inside, straight up to Draco's dorm, which was currently empty of people.

"Well?" inquired Draco, letting his bag drop to the floor and flopping down onto his bed, feet by the pillow. He rolled onto his stomach and propped his chin up in his hands.

Blaise remained in the centre of the rectangular room, nose wrinkled in disgust as she took in the state of the dormitory. Draco's territory was the only tidy area. Theodore Nott's uniform was crumpled and spread all over the floor of his territory (it was always referred to as 'territory' in Slytherin), and his bed was unmade. A half-written essay with multiple ink-blots on it lay on the pale green sheets – which were also stained with ink. Evan Greengrass' territory was little better – a towel (still damp, Blaise noted with disdain) lay on his unmade bed, a half-crushed quill was staining the pillow on the bed with ink, the other pillows were on the floor, a tie was half-under the bed…

I can't bear to look at the rest, she thought, closing her eyes against the sight that assaulted her eyes. _At least girls are reasonably tidy. **Boys**, on the other hand…_She shook her head in resignation.

"Blaise, when you've concluded your surveillance of the sixth-year boys' accommodation, perhaps you would care to enlighten me with your grand scheme?" inquired Draco, waving his feet in the air to attract her attention.

"Perhaps this dorm could be _tidied_ a little? It affects my concentration and my focus. Negatively."

"The _scheme_?"

Blaise narrowed her eyes at him before sighing in a long-suffering manner and jumping onto the bed. Waving her wand, she closed the curtains and cast multiple silencing spells around them. "Are you sitting comfortably?"

Draco gave her a quizzical look.

"Then I'll begin…"

It was ready. Hermione, Blaise, Draco and Neville were gathered in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Neville was looking distinctly apprehensive – or, in Draco's opinion, downright scared. Hermione, having had a brief attack of conscience earlier in the month – but subsequently snapped out of it by Blaise – was now tense, yet still alert. Blaise was eager, and Draco was laid-back and relaxed about it all – cocky, if you asked Hermione for her opinion. Myrtle was hiding in her toilet, muttering irritably about the presence of boys in her bathroom.

Watches were synchronised. Hermione looked steadily at the boys. "You know what to do?"

Draco nodded confidently. "No problem, Granger. As long as we've got this 'equipment' you promised us."

Hermione obligingly produced an old scrap of parchment from her pocket, a knowing look on her face. The boys regarded her doubtfully and Blaise snorted in disbelief. "And just what use is a scrap of old parchment to our cause?" she demanded.

"This," Hermione informed her in a superior tone, "is no ordinary 'scrap of old parchment'. _This_ is the Marauder's Map."

"I don't see anything," Draco stated flatly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "What does the word 'marauder' make you think of?"

"Sneakiness," said Blaise immediately.

"Secrecy," supplied Draco, not to be outdone by a girl – even if she _was_ his best friend.

"Exactly." Hermione tapped the parchment with her wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The two Slytherins and Neville watched as lines and words began appearing on the parchment in front of them. Dots, labelled with names of people, began appearing, their four huddled close together in Myrtle's bathroom. Peeves the poltergeist was in the trophy room with Argus Filch, the Squib caretaker, an was no doubt causing trouble for the caretaker.

"Impressive, Granger," remarked Draco in his old drawl. "Care to enlighten us as to its use?"

Hermione obligingly explained how the Map worked, pointing out what appeared to be a staff meeting in Dumbledore's office, themselves and Pansy Parkinson, their target, who was sitting in the library.

"So what's the plan?" asked Neville nervously.

"You and I sort Parkinson," explained Draco. "Blaise will be with us. Then she drinks the potion. _Then_ she attacks any random person that crosses her path. Get it?"

Neville nodded, gulping.

"I've got my target sorted once I'm Pansy," Blaise informed them. Her gaze came to rest on Neville.

"Why me?" he wailed.

****

TBC

****

Author thanks:

Dark Borg Drone: hannon le, mellon nîn!!

Lord Elrond of Hogwarts: Not sure whether my having an effect on your mental stability is a good thing or not!! Of_ course_ Blaise got the ingredients; she's a Slytherin!!

Lucidity: I hope the Author Alerts are sorted soon!!! I'm glad you're liking Blaise; I wanted her to be very likeable, and fun and feisty (she's the sort of person I would love to have been at that age – God, that makes me sound old! I'm not twenty till October!) whilst retaining the qualities that got her placed in Slytherin in the first place, _and_ keep her believable.

Apocatha: (blushes at praise) It's Draco's shins I pity! I didn't want to go into too much detail about Blaise's father; that's not the story. But it would be typical of Pansy to use that kind of information to (attempt to) hurt her. Blaise is the only one who really accepts Draco for who he is. She's not trying to 'get in' with him just because of his money or for social standing, and actually cares about him, which he appreciates, and needs. Also, he knows he can trust her – very rare in Slytherin!!


	4. Action and Consequence

The Downfall of Pansy Parkinson

****

Disclaimer: have never owned, don't own, never will own

Chapter 4: Action and Consequence

"Parkinson, I want a word with you," announced Draco, sauntering up to where Pansy was sitting in the library. "I've spent most of the day looking for you, as it happens. I certainly wasn't expecting to find you _here_, which is why it's taken me so long to find you."

Pansy glared at him. "And?"

Draco sneezed. A split second later, three strong Stunning spells hit the female Slytherin prefect, courtesy of Blaise, Neville and Hermione, who had been hidden under the other piece of 'equipment' – Harry Potter's Invisibility Cloak. Hermione had borrowed it from him, and fortunately for her he had been too engrossed in reading his favourite Quidditch book to inquire as to its exact use.

Blaise snatched up Pansy's fallen wand before she was swiftly and silently wrapped up in the Cloak. Draco and Neville placed her under _Mobilicorpus_ and, each with one hand on her to ensure that they still had her, they left to lock her in the old broomstick cupboard near McGonagall's room. Draco carried a sleeping draught in his pocket. Just in case.

Once Neville returned under the Invisibility Cloak, somewhat out of breath from running back, Blaise drank the Polyjuice Potion, pulling an expression of complete and utter revulsion as she did so. "_Ugh_!" she hissed distastefully to Hermione (quietly, so as to avoid arousing the attention of the sharp-eared and highly suspicious librarian, Madam Pince).

Hermione nodded sympathetically. "It is rather," she agreed.

Moments later, she was looking at Pansy Parkinson. "Right. It's two twenty-eight. You've got until three twenty-eight to do what you have to do." She disappeared under the Cloak.

Blaise grinned wickedly. Oh, she _was_ looking forward to this! She briskly strode out of the library, just like Pansy did when she 'got into a strop', as Millicent Bulstrode put it.

"Oi, Parkinson!"

Blaise stopped and spun around to face Theodore Nott. Inwardly she was desperately flustered and panicky, and she prayed that it didn't show. Over the summer, Theodore had undergone a huge transformation in the looks department and was now extremely attractive. Particularly to Blaise. "Y-yes?" she managed.

"You share a dorm with Blaise Zabini, right?"

Blaise forced a nod.

"Tell her I want to speak to her about something. It's _private_," he added, narrowing his dark brown eyes at her. "You tell _no-one_ or I shall make absolutely sure that your life is not worth living."

"What's it worth?"

"I won't grass on your father. I know who he serves, what he's done. I've seen things."

Blaise nodded curtly, briefly, like she knew Pansy would. "Deal. Now let me past."

Theodore moved and Blaise hurried off. What she needed to do was _focus_. Find a Gryffindor. Preferably a first- or second-year; anyone older would in all likelihood fight back, which would not be good.

Do **not** think about Theodore! She ordered herself sharply. _You've got less than an hour to pull this off, so **focus**!_

She wandered the school for about fifteen minutes, Hermione close behind under the Cloak. They did not speak, in case anyone nearby got suspicious of "Pansy's" behaviour.

Turning a corner, Blaise had to work extremely hard to prevent a grin of sheer delight from spreading across her face. _It **can't** get any better than this!_

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, examining something, were stood in the front entrance hall. Even better, Professors McGonagall and Snape were not far off, repairing some damage that Peeves the poltergeist had caused to some statues.

Blaise strode swiftly up to Potter and Weasley, and put on Pansy's disdainful and disapproving superior-to-you-all sneer. "Well, well. What do we have here? Potty and the Pauper."

The two Gryffindors immediately blocked whatever it was that they had been examining, from her view. Weasley stepped forward. "What do you want, Parkinson?" he demanded.

"No loitering in the corridors. That's…oh, ten points from Gryffindor," replied Blaise, smirking exactly like Pansy when she got one over on someone. "Each."

"You can't take points off!" protested Weasley angrily. "Only teachers can do that!"

"Actually," countered Blaise, knowing that the housepoint total would not actually be affected, as she herself was not a prefect (yet), "prefects _can_ take points. Looks like _someone_ isn't doing their job properly. Another ten points from Gryffindor for failing to carry out your prefect duties and for not knowing your responsibilities and privileges. Tut tut."

"Why, you little…" sputtered Weasley, brandishing his wand at her. Potter, glaring at the person he believed to be Pansy, reached out to prevent the redhead from doing something that would get him into trouble and cost Gryffindor housepoints.

"And for that little stunt," said Blaise nodding at Weasley's still-raised wand, "you will pay. _Tarantallegra_!"

Weasley's legs promptly began jerking about in an uncontrolled dance. "That's – not – _fair_ – Parkinson!" he cried furiously between gasps for breath.

"You're right," said Blaise agreeably. "_Finite Incantatem_. _Rictusempra_." This was aimed at Potter, who fell to the floor in response to the tickling hex. Blaise, catching sight of Snape and McGonagall beginning to bear down on them, ended the hex, dropped Pansy's wand and fled. She tore down the corridor that eventually led to the library, then took off down the corridor that would take her to where Pansy was being kept under close guard by the two boys.

"Done?" asked Draco as Blaise fell to the floor, breathing hard from her dash.

"Yep," replied Blaise between breaths. "Hexed…Potter and…Weasel. Snape and…McGonagall…saw me…do it."

"Perfect."

Hermione appeared from under the Cloak and gave it to Blaise. "Put this on," she instructed. "You've still got twenty minutes before the potion wears off."

"What are we going to do about Pansy, though?" asked Neville. "I mean, she won't remember anything about the incident because she didn't actually _do _it!"

"Leave it with me," said Blaise confidently. "I know how to transfer memories – and I'm good at it."

Draco looked hard at her. "You'll want to be careful, then. Last time I checked, most memory-transferring was illegal."

Blaise waved him off impatiently. "I'm perfectly capable. Don't you trust me?"

"Did I say that?"

"Just get on with it," Hermione ordered. "Come on, into the cupboard! _Now_!" She practically shoved them all in, locking the door behind them. "_Lumos_." The wandlight revealed Filch in very close proximity to them on the Marauder's Map. Almost unconsciously, everyone held their breath, even though Filch would not be able to find them.

When the caretaker had disappeared along the corridor that led to the Ravenclaw quarters, Hermione turned to Blaise. "Do what you have to do."

"I'll need silence. Parkinson needs to be completely out of it – Draco, bung that sleeping potion you've got down her throat just to make absolutely sure. She needs to be flat on her back, ideally on the floor so she can't fall and break the bond between us mid-transfer. Done? Good."

She began murmuring strange, foreign words, moving her wand in grand gestures over Pansy's unconscious form. Then she placed her left hand (not her wand hand) on Pansy's forehead, touched her wand to her own forehead on the temple and, whispering the same sentence over and over again, pulled a shimmering blue thread from her temple. Moving slowly to ensure that it did not break, she touched the thread to Pansy's temple.

Eyes closed, she was still for fifteen minutes while the memories were transferred from her mind to Pansy's, whilst taking care to remove her own opinions from the memories. With this spell, the memories transferred would be completely removed from Blaise's mind, so it would be as though she had slept for that period of time.

When the process was over, she touched the thread at Pansy's end and attached it to her wand, moving it back until the thread no longer existed. Remaining perfectly still for a few more minutes – by which time the Polyjuice Potion had worn off and the others were once again looking at the curly-haired West Midlander – Blaise finally ended the spell with a firm, "Done".

"What now?" asked Neville anxiously.

"Now, we take her back to the library, wake her up from under the Cloak – Neville, you don't need to be there and we can't really fit four under the thing – then scram."

"Sounds good to me," said Draco, getting to his feet. "Coast clear, Granger?"

"Completely," replied Hermione as they wrapped Pansy up in the Cloak once again. "Now let's go before we get into trouble. We must have broken about thirty school rules."

It was a brisk journey back to the library. Neville split from them once inside, heading for the Herbology section. The other three carried out their task and, the moment "_Enervate_!" passed Hermione's lips, they slipped off to join Neville. Pince had seen the four enter as a group, and it would look very odd indeed if Draco, Hermione and Blaise were nowhere to be found in the library.

Shortly before dinner, Draco and Blaise were stopped in the corridor near their common room by Snape. "Miss Parkinson came to me earlier with a very odd tale," he said softly. "If you would care to accompany me to my office?"

Exchanging nervous and worried glances, the pair nodded. Blaise was wondering if she had somehow messed up the spell – although she had no memories of what she had done while under the Polyjuice, so _that _part of the spell had worked. Draco was more concerned over his own status as Prefect.

Upon reaching his office – where McGonagall stood, arms crossed over her chest – Snape sat down behind his desk and regarded the two sixth-year Slytherins intently. "I have been informed by Miss Parkinson that you two did something – she failed to specify _what_ – to her. Professor McGonagall and myself earlier observed her carrying out acts most inappropriate for a prefect."

Blaise pulled a disgusted face. "She wasn't shagging Twigg in the common room again, was she?"

Snape arched one eyebrow. "I am unaware of _that_, Miss Zabini, but thank you for informing me of it.

"I am not at liberty to specify what this act was – although it has nothing to do with Mr. Twigg. Have either of you anything to say for yourselves?"

"We were studying," replied Draco. "All afternoon, for the big Herbology test Professor Sprout's giving us on Tuesday. In the library with Granger and Longbottom. Madam Pince saw us there."

Blaise nodded fervently.

"Excuse me," cut in McGonagall. "I shall fetch Miss Granger and Mr. Longbottom." She swept out of the room.

"If your alibis all fit, Miss Parkinson is likely to be removed from office and another, suitable candidate selected," Snape informed them. "Do sit." He gestured to the empty chairs on the other side of his desk, and the two sixth-years obeyed.

It was not long before McGonagall returned, having spoken with her Gryffindors and also Madam Pince, who had supported the alibis of all four. "Not left the library all afternoon," she said.

The bell for dinner rang at that moment, and Snape dismissed them, obsidian gaze levelled at Blaise's back.

On the way, she and Draco met up with a relieved-looking Hermione and Neville, and the foursome made their way to the Great Hall, splitting to join their respective Houses. Dumbledore announced the date of the final Hogsmeade visit before being spoken to by Snape. The headmaster clapped his hands once again. "Once final announcement. Due to inappropriate behaviour, Pansy Parkinson has been removed from the position of sixth-year Slytherin girls' prefect."

Gasps of shock rang out through the Hall, and all eyes turned to the Slytherin table. Pansy was not present.

Dumbledore waited for silence before continuing. "After careful consideration, a replacement has been selected." He smiled down on the top of the Slytherin table. "Congratulations, Blaise Zabini. If you would like to collect your badge from your Head of House?"

Blaise threw her arms around Draco so violently that he almost fell backwards off the bench. He pushed her towards the staff table, where Snape was now standing, his face wearing the closest thing to a smile that anyone had ever seen from him.

Blaise dazedly stumbled up to the platform, applause ringing in her ears. "I don't have to make a speech or anything, do I?"

Snape shook his head. "Just be a proper prefect." He shook her hand, a curious, knowing smile on his face, and gave her the much-coveted badge. She thanked him and hastily departed back to her seat at the Slytherin table. Leaning in to Draco, she whispered, "He knows what we did," as he placed an arm around her.

Draco, smirking, nodded in agreement. "But you deserve it. Now you and I can mean business."

Blaise simply grinned and nodded. She had got what she wanted, and she would enjoy it.

END

Author thanks:

Lord Elrond of Hogwarts: I know what you mean about Blaise's mind. I love it too!!

Lucidity: they were teasing Neville when they suggested going after him. By the time you read this you'll have found out what Blaise's plan really was. Ron doesn't know about the map. Harry, however, is vaguely in on the plot and let Hermione use the map – he doesn't like Pansy either!

Dark Borg Drone: and here's the final instalment. Hannon le!!


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